Chapter 4 - The Letter G
The contact number belonged to a prepaid phone.
Of course.
Nothing in our lives was going to be convenient.
Melissa’s attorney argued “G” could be anybody.
True.
Graham Voss became obvious emotionally.
Not legally.
Keene refused to call him suspect in front of us.
“We establish identity through records.”
I wanted faster.
She wanted durable.
Phone records showed the prepaid line activated four months earlier.
Purchased at a convenience store with cash.
Usage clustered around Carter House.
Most calls to Melissa.
Three to another number belonging to a bank.
One to a commercial real estate attorney.
That last one confused us.
Why would a secret line used for restaurant fraud contact a real estate lawyer?
Ethan said:
“Maybe Melissa is selling her shares.”
“She can’t without offering me right of first refusal.”
“Unless she’s negotiating.”
We contacted our business attorney, Samuel Price, separately from police.
He reviewed operating agreement.
Melissa owned forty percent.
She could not sell controlling rights without notice.
But she could pledge her economic interest as collateral under certain restrictions.
Had she?
County and UCC searches showed something.
Six months earlier, Melissa had signed a personal loan.
$280,000.
Lender:
Harbor Ridge Capital.
Collateral included her distributions from Carter House and certain personal business assets.
Not her ownership directly.
Still significant.
Ethan stared.
“She never told me.”
“She didn’t have to for personal debt unless it impaired obligations.”
“Did it?”
“We don’t know.”
Then another document.
Harbor Ridge required minimum quarterly distributions from Carter House to Melissa.
If distributions fell below threshold, default.
Guess what happened three months earlier?
Ethan had reduced owner distributions because restaurant needed cash for a kitchen renovation.
Melissa’s loan entered technical default.
That gave her urgent need for money.
Possible motive for theft.
But not entire puzzle.
Why secret real estate attorney?
Samuel checked.
The attorney represented Holloway Development, a company that had recently purchased two properties on our block.
They had offered to buy Carter House building the year before.
Ethan refused.
The building itself was owned by Carter Property LLC, split same 60/40.
If restaurant finances collapsed, a sale could become attractive.
Was Melissa trying to force sale to cover debt?
Maybe.
Still no proof.
Hospital discharged Olivia after twenty six hours with follow-up instructions.
No heavy exertion.
Return for concerning symptoms.
Her obstetric team remained cautious but optimistic.
She and Ethan went home.
Not their usual home.
They stayed with Olivia’s parents for several days because Melissa knew their address and had previously entered without notice.
No contact order was issued against Melissa after her initial court appearance on assault and unlawful restraint-related charges.
She could not contact Olivia, me, or enter Carter House except through counsel/approved process.
Her ownership rights remained.
That created practical nightmare.
She owned forty percent of restaurant but could not walk in.
Business court eventually appointed temporary communication protocol through attorneys.
I returned to Carter House three days later.
The stockroom was still sealed.
The restaurant had closed voluntarily after incident.
Staff gathered in dining room.
Thirty two people.
Fear.
Rumors.
I stood in front.
“Olivia and baby are stable.”
Everyone exhaled.
“Melissa is not permitted on property.”
Someone asked:
“Are we reopening?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow dinner.”
Another:
“Is it safe?”
That question hurt.
“We’re replacing locks. Security access is being rebuilt. No one works alone in back areas until review.”
Then dishwasher Mateo raised hand.
“I saw Graham before Olivia came.”
The room changed.
“When?”
“Maybe three thirty.”
“But he left at two seventeen.”
“He came through front?”
“I saw him in office hallway.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Tell police.”
“I already did.”
My pulse quickened.
Graham claimed he was home.
Dock camera showed he left.
But no front lobby camera after 3:10 because it had been put into privacy mode for a private reservation setup.
Who controlled that?
Graham’s admin account.
Again.
I called Keene.
She already knew Mateo’s statement.
“Can you arrest him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because being at work is not a crime.”
“He lied.”
“Potentially.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“Evidence.”
I ended call frustrated.
Then I went to my office.
My desk drawers had been opened.
Nothing obvious missing.
Except one folder.
Copies of Riverbend, Larkin, and Blue Arc invoices.
The paper set I had told Olivia about.
Gone.
The only backup I had made was digital.
Encrypted on my personal cloud.
Who knew paper copies existed?
Olivia.
Me.
And one other person.
Two days before the attack, I had asked Graham:
“Do you recognize these vendor charges?”
He had looked at the folder for less than ten seconds.
Then smiled.
“Probably event allocations.”
The exact phrase he later used at hospital.
Old allocations.
I stared at empty drawer.
Then noticed something beneath desk.
A torn corner of paper.
Blue Arc Events.
On the reverse was a handwritten number.
$49,750.
May you like
And initials.
GV.
